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Prologue
Magnus
Water.
I needed water. Craved it with every desiccated cell in my body.
“You bitch!” I croaked, my throat too parched to shout out loud. “I can’t go any farther. I know you can hear me. I’m dying! I need water!”
“Keep climbing.”
Her voice floated down to me. I looked up, saw her dangling a flask over the edge of the cliff. “There’s water aplenty here. Come and get it.”
With a roar, I forced my weary arms to reach up. Found a crevice so tiny only my fingertips fit in it. Blind rage gave me the will to contract the muscles in my trembling legs one more time, pushing me up and gaining another precious foot. By the Goddess, I vowed I’d get to the top, rip that flask from her bony fingers and drain it, then wring her scrawny neck.
I’d already trudged miles through a barren wasteland. Two full days and nights without rest, except when my shaking legs refused to carry me any further and I collapsed in a heap on the ground. Time after time, I staggered to my feet and went on.
My meager supply of water ran out early on. There were no lakes or streams flowing here. No wells. No trees or plants. Not even a sign life had ever existed here, except the skeletons of doomed creatures lying in the dust. Creatures that ventured too far into this gods-forsaken place. It was the sight of those that gave me the determination to go on. If I didn’t, my own bones would soon be bleaching in the sun beside them.
I knew my only hope for survival was to find her. I headed east, navigating by the sun and the stars. Go east. That was all she told me before dumping me here.
Once I’d been in the lap of luxury. Well fed, well rested. The pampered only son of indulgent parents, with older sisters who doted on me. One day I’d take over my father’s holdings. Live the life of a lord.
But I wanted more. I read the tales penned by our forefathers and dreamed of glory. Of fighting epic battles, like the heroes of old. Of winning fame and adulation. With the arrogance of youth, I sent my wish out into the Universe. Well, not so much a wish, perhaps, as a demand.
“I will be the greatest warrior alive. The greatest warrior in the history of the World of the Seven Stars.”
The Universe blessed me and granted my wish. And I learned why the ancients used the same symbol for curse and blessing, only reversed.
I’d met the oracle for the first time right before she dumped me in the wilderness. At sixteen, I’d convinced my parents to let me take a trip to the city for a few days. Alone. I was eager to venture out. Explore the world. With a purse full of coins and the arrogance of youth, I was sure no harm could come to me. After all, I was already the size of a grown man, with years of training in sword and staff.
I rode into the city, stabled my horse, and went out to see the sights. The streets were jammed. Elegantly dressed ladies, trailed by servants laden with packages, laborers hauling materials to dozens of new building sites, well-dressed men striding along two by two with their heads together, plotting their next business deal.
And everywhere, shops and stalls piled with a dazzling array of goods. I stopped at one, set up outdoors under an awning to shade it from the sun. A multicolored wisp of silk caught my eye, and I decided to surprise my mother with a gift.
“How much is that scarf?”
“Ah, for you, young sir, I make a special price.” The old crone behind the counter picked it up, put it in my hands. “Just feel. So soft. And so colorful! Your lady love will cherish it.”
“I don’t have a lady love,” I said. “It’s for my mother.”
“What a fine son to give a gift like this! Your mother must be proud to have such a thoughtful and kind young man.” She gave me a wink. “Better buy another. A lad as handsome as you will soon have his pick of fair maidens.”
I shook my head. “I have no time for dalliances. I’m in training to become a warrior.”
“A warrior!” Her wrinkled face lit up with a smile, showing a few missing teeth. “A worthy goal and a brave one. Tell me, my lad, what sort of training do you do?”
“I spar twice weekly with the best swordsman in the county. He says I’m his prize student. And I work out every day. Strength training, endurance.”
“Strength and endurance for the body. Those are necessary. And swordsmanship a must.” She looked me up and down, as though appraising horseflesh. “And how do you train your heart and soul?”
“Heart and soul?” I shrugged and pulled out some coins. What did an old woman know of the ways of a warrior? I was raised to be polite to the elderly but the sooner I paid her, the sooner I could be finished with this conversation and on my way to adventure.
“A great warrior needs heart. He must love someone – or something –- more than himself. His brothers in battle, his woman, his homeland. That is where he summons the strength to keep on fighting when every weary fiber of his being cries out to surrender.”
I nodded. That sounded like something from one of the epic tales I’d read.
“And soul,” she went on. “The connection with a force greater than our mortal self. For spirit will prevail when all else is gone. Strength can fail; endurance will dissipate given enough time. A heart can be broken by betrayal. Tell me, young lad – do you have thesoulof a warrior?”
